


A Confession of Pain

by farawayfiction (JJ_Thomas)



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2018-05-13 07:48:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5700643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JJ_Thomas/pseuds/farawayfiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Someone’s just tried to murder the Inspector.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> (A very special thank you to Sarah for the beta read. The prologue is a rewrite of the drabble “Venture” and chapter one should be the first of 17 or 18. Rating subject to change.)

Mr. Butler had just made a truly splendid cup of cocoa. Dot and Phryne reveled in the decadence. How a man could make something so delicious out of two ingredients, they’d never know. They were like school girls, enjoying the forbidden.

Then a knock came at the kitchen door. Through the pane they spied Hugh, unexpected but certainly not unwelcome. Dot jumped up to greet him. All joviality in the room evaporated though as they laid eyes on his face. He crossed the threshold slowly, as if a great weight rested on his shoulders. His complexion was pale.

Phryne rose from her seat at the table. “What is it, Hugh?”

“Someone’s just tried to murder the Inspector.”


	2. One

“Mind the glass,” he warned.

Phryne stood in the doorway to Jack’s office, aghast. What little was left of the window pane jutted in sharp pieces from the frame. The wooden blinds hung cockeyed, a single slat splintered beyond repair. Shards littered the floor and lay scattered across his desk. Her shock gave way to relief. Despite the chaos, he was alive and well.

“You gave poor Hugh a scare.” Her tone purposefully light, she betrayed none of the anxiety that plagued her. The constable’s late evening appearance and dreadful message had left them all fearful.

Reaching for a folder that lay atop a short stack of files, he canted it carefully over the waste paper basket. The glass resting upon it slid into the receptacle. He frowned, disapprovingly. “I instructed him to go _home_.”

She smiled at the emphasis. “Well, he didn’t. Instead he interrupted a perfectly good cup of cocoa with ghastly news of your near demise.”

For the first time since her arrival, he looked up and met her gaze. The concern she’d kept from her voice was present in the lines of her face. She wore none of her usual make-up and her day clothes appeared to have been thrown on quickly. Guilt assaulted him for having been the cause of her late- night exodus. “An excellent reason for a reprimand,” he declared apologetically.

“Don’t go too hard on him, Jack.” She was glad Hugh had disobeyed the order.

Collins was the least of his worries. A quick canvas of the station exterior had turned up no witnesses and no leads. His office was unusable in its current state. The adrenaline that had driven him in the aftermath of the incident had dissipated, leaving him unexpectedly exhausted.

Phryne considered the window, her curiosity piqued. “A rock wouldn’t have caused this much damage.”

A sinking feeling developed in his gut.

“Jack-“

Reluctantly, he gestured to the wall opposite the window with a tilt of his head.

Tiptoeing through the debris field, she came upon the indicated spot. What she found renewed her concern. “This is a bullet hole!”

“Your deductive powers are as keen as ever.” The statement had been intended to tease. It escaped his lips instead with a degree of unintended sarcasm. He regretted the words immediately.

She was singularly focused on the wall and didn’t seem to notice. “Someone _did_ try to kill you.”

“The angle is wrong,” he refuted evenly. “I was sitting-“

“But if you’d been standing-“

“I wasn’t-“

“Perhaps they weren’t close enough to know.”

“Perhaps they were.”

There was a pause in the verbal volley.

“More likely than not, it was intended to frighten, not harm,” he ventured, his voice reassuring.

She cast a dubious and disapproving glance in his direction. He was gambling with his life. “You’re not taking this very seriously.”

“If I were to let every rock thrown through my window or every threatening letter delivered sway me, I’d never be able to do my job,” he told her rationally.

Her momentary anger seemed to deflate just as quickly as it had risen. He made a very good point. The potential for danger came with their business. “Is there anyone who might want to scare you? _Or_ harm you? A current case? Or maybe someone who’s been recently released? Someone who carries a grudge?”

A small but tired smile graced his face. “No.”

She furrowed her brow. “Just… no? To all of my questions?”

“No, you’re not working this case,” he clarified in no uncertain terms.

An unconcealed look of defiance flashed on her features.

“Phryne-“

“No promises.” Her tone was equally as firm.

Jack saw in her body language all he needed to know. She’d already made up her mind. He sighed.

She let the discussion lie for the time being and offered him an olive branch. “Would you like a hand cleaning up?”

“No, I…” He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes briefly. “I think I’ll board up the window and deal with the rest in the morning. There’s nothing to be gained by working into the wee hours.”

He turned to take another look at the task ahead. The back of his shirt collar was stained dark red.

Phryne’s eyes grew wide. “Jack? Did you throw your head down when the bullet shattered the window?”

He glanced back. “I believe so. Why?”

“Come sit down,” she ordered, gesturing to the chair intended for visitors. “Is your handkerchief clean?”

Confusion swept across his features but he moved to do as she bid without question. Dipping into his pocket, he pulled out the folded square and offered it up. She accepted it but not before reaching for his tie, loosening it enough to reach his top button. His gaze drifted down, patiently withstanding her gentle but deliberate efforts. He rested in her capable hands.

“You’re bleeding,” she whispered. She hooked her index finger inside his collar and ran it around toward the stain, carefully separating the material from his flesh. The blood on his neck was still wet. He flinched when she placed the handkerchief to the long, open cut and applied pressure.

“I hadn’t realized,” he mumbled.

“It’s right here above your- Ah!”

Her hand circled around into his peripheral vision. Between her thumb and index finger, she pinched a sliver, blood on the edge. “Seems our shooter found his target after all, just not with the weapon of choice.”

Jack shivered involuntarily.

~~~~~~~~~

Hugh was working at the front desk when Phryne returned to the lobby. His complexion held more color and the fear in his eyes had been replaced by resolute determination. Despite orders to the contrary, the Constable had chosen to remain. The thought of any further violence directed toward the Detective Inspector kept him watchful and alert.

“Miss,” he greeted her again for the second time.

“Keeping a close eye?”

He nodded. “Can’t be too careful.”

“I can’t say I blame you,” she admitted, her tone touched by a small degree of frustration. She glanced back in Jack’s direction. He’d politely refused a guestroom invitation before urging her to seek sleep. The sound of hammering could be heard down the hall as he boarded up the obliterated window.

“I should go help him,” Hugh realized, taking a step toward his superior’s office.

Phryne caught his arm as he passed. “You can help him by helping me.”

A confused expression formed on his face but she at least had his full attention.

“I’m sure there are a fair number of individuals out there interested in either harassing or harming Jack,” she explained. “If we’re to find whoever’s responsible for this, I’ll need your help to narrow down that list.”

Understanding dawned and he was quick to jump on board. He mentioned the first person who came to mind, coincidentally their most recent as well. “Jeremy Rays was in for questioning three days ago. We didn’t hold him but by the time he left, he was pretty well worked up.”

Phryne didn’t recognize the name.

“Repeat offender. Assault, burglary, breaking and entering. Someone reported him lurking around a pawn shop. We picked him up and politely reminded him his parole would be up in a few months if he kept himself out of trouble.”

“I take it there’s no love lost between our Mr. Rays and the Inspector.”

“Rays tried to take a swing at him a couple years back,” Hugh confirmed.

“That sounds like a promising place to begin our investigation.”

He nearly balked at the term. “Does the Inspector-“

She leaned in, whispering conspiratorially. “It’ll be our little secret.”

Suddenly uncomfortable, he opened his mouth to reply but no words came forth. On one hand, he had every desire to find the person or persons responsible for the attempt on the DI’s life. On the other, it felt morally wrong to keep their intentions concealed. It was not the first time she’d placed in him in a difficult position.

“Have there been any other attempts?”

Her matter-of-fact question horrified him. _Had_ there been other attempts? The truth was he didn’t know. “Not that I’m aware of.”

She discarded the notion. “If there had been, you’d think he’d be a little more concerned for his own safety.”

“One would hope,” Hugh replied dubiously.

“You’re right,” she conceded unhappily. “He’s usually far more concerned for the safety of others. Quite often at the expense of his own.”

The hammering in the background ceased. They knew in that instant their time was limited. “I’ll check on Rays’ whereabouts,” he promised.

“If anyone else comes to mind, let me know as soon as possible. Also, would you check the prison release records?”

“You think someone has served their time and is back for revenge?” The idea didn’t seem altogether far-fetched. Although he thought it more possible than plausible.

The door which bore the name ROBINSON opened and the lights went out.

“I’m keeping my avenues open.”

“Right. I’ll let you know,” he replied quickly, hoping to go unheard.

The Inspector closed the door behind him and joined them at the hallway entrance. He appeared haggard, the bloody handkerchief held in place by the collar of his overcoat. “You’ll let her know what?”

“That you arrived home safely,” Phryne interjected.

“That won’t be necessary.”

Hugh had the good grace to remain silent. The understated battle of wills was just beginning.

“You look hardly awake enough to stand, let alone drive.”

He frowned. “I thought I told the both of you to go home.”

“We weren’t about to leave you here alone.”

“I doubt there’ll be any more excitement this evening.”

“It’s morning,” she corrected him gently.

His sluggish brain failed to formulate a response. A stiff drink and few hours of sleep were all he wanted.

“Humor me, Jack. If you won’t accept a temporary relocation, at least let Hugh drive you home. I’d feel better knowing you didn’t run yourself off the road.” Her gaze implored him in a way her words could not.

He stared blankly for a moment before glancing at his subordinate, the unasked question put forth.

“I’d be happy to, sir,” Hugh sincerely reassured him.

“It’s settled then!”

Phryne’s declaration effectively ended the conversation before Jack could find another reason to protest. They left together shortly thereafter, the bullet Jack had pulled from his office wall forgotten at the bottom of his pocket. She watched them climb into the police car and disappear down the street but a sense of trepidation remained in their wake. The Hispano-Suiza roared to life and from a discreet distance, she decided to follow.


End file.
